


He's Been in My Service Since He Was a Boy

by AHaresBreath



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Friendship, Insecurity, M/M, Pre-Series, Untold Legends, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHaresBreath/pseuds/AHaresBreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the pressures and expectations get too much for Arthur he takes refuge in the stables and there develops a tentative friendship with Tyr, the new stable hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Been in My Service Since He Was a Boy

Arthur fumbled his way up the rough ladder and flung himself face first into a pile of straw, it scratched at his burning cheeks, made sensitive by his humiliation and the hot tears which streaked them. Stupid Sir Lionel, and Sir Kay for laughing, and stupid, stupid Arthur for rising to their bait again. He thumped his fist down hard, bruising it on the solid wood beneath the straw and let out a muffled roar into the crook of his arm.

"Heeey, steady there my lady..." A warm, accented voice drifted up from the stables, and Arthur peered over the ledge to see a tawny haired serving boy who he’d never noticed before soothing Llamrei. She was prancing forward and back and tossing her head nervously. He ran his chubby hands over her neck and withers, firmly, masterfully even, though she was twice his height, until she settled and snuffled his shoulder.

"Oi," called Arthur, annoyed, "That's my horse, what do you think you're doing?"

Infuriatingly the other boy didn't even look up but just carried on stroking his mare. He didn't raise his voice when he replied but still it carried, strong and firm up to where Arthur lay on his stomach.

"Reckon she took fright when some great lummox came blundering through just a few minutes past, I'm surprised you didn't hear, milord."

The voice was calm and sounded to be full of respect. Arthur narrowed his eyes. He scrubbed his nose and cheeks with dirty sleeves and swung himself over the ledge of the hayloft, landing quite gracefully and straightening up as he turned to glare at the intruder. He was a bit shorter than Arthur, as well as being considerably rounder, but probably about the same age, and although he glanced nervously at Arthur there was an underlying strength to his broad honest features.

"You're the new stable lad." Marcus, the head groom, had told Arthur a few days previously that they would be getting a new boy in to help out since Shaun had gone off to marry his sweetheart.  
"Yes milord, Tyr Seward sire." He shuffled obligingly to the side as Arthur stepped in front of his horse and scratched her blaze.

He cleared his throat, "She likes you Tyr Seward. She's usually quite skittish around strangers."

Tyr chuckled, "Ah we go way back, I took her out this morning and we had a good old chat, her and me."

Arthur fixed Tyr with a glare, unsure if he was being mocked, but the boy's beam was innocent, until it faltered and his brows drew together in concern.

"Are you alright master? You look like you been crying..."

"How dare you?" Arthur grasped the boy’s ratty collar roughly, looming in close, one trembling fist raised. "You take that back or I'll knock you out."

Tyr shrank away but met Arthur's eye. "Course not, sorry sir, it's just I was going to say, if’n you had been upset about something..." Arthur pulled his fist back a little more and Tyr hurriedly blurted the rest "... Which you're not, obviously, but I was gonna say I've got some pastries me Mam packed for me and maybe your lordship would like one? Mam's the best baker in Elmet, or was til we come here anyway…" He trailed off, nodding hopefully, his eyes wide and his small mouth pursed.

Arthur lowered his fist and narrowed his eyes. "What kind of pastries?"

 

* * *

 

They were delicious, better than anything from the palace kitchens. No wonder the boy was a bit on the tubby side when his mother could bake like that. Arthur licked his buttery fingers and helped himself to another.

"And then," he said through a mouthful of sweet, honeyed goodness, "He tipped me on the ground and they all laughed..."

"Dear me," said Tyr shaking his head, "Perhaps the two-handed sword is just too much for you yet, milord."

"But I have to try," Arthur hung his head, "I have to prove myself… And they didn't have to be such arses about it."

They were back up in the hayloft, legs swinging, looking down over the stables.

“I don’t pretend to know nothing about knighting, but I know horses, and I guess that means I know people too.” Arthur snorted and Tyr shot him an amused look. “Listen, when you’re training a horse, you push him too hard and you’ll ruin him, you stretch him aye, but not so far as he’ll break.”

“You think I’m going to break, Tyr Seward?” Arthur swallowed and stared mournfully into the dusty beams of light from the high windows.

But Tyr shook his head. “I think you’ve got to trust yourself more, not judge yourself by what you think others is thinking.”

Arthur didn’t have an answer for that so they sat in silence for a while, stripping bits of straw and flicking them down onto the horses' backs until Arthur had to go change for dinner. 

 

* * *

Tyr’s mother really did make the best pastries, and when she found out the prince himself was enjoying her creations she went a little overboard. Each day Arthur would be sure to swing by the stables, casually enquiring after the horses, and each day Tyr had something delicious to share. He complained that carrying the boxes full of delicacies for Arthur was harder work than lugging tack around and Arthur would shove him good-naturedly, and then help out with some of his tasks if he had time. 

His visits to the stables became the highlight of Arthur’s days, even when he could only pop by in passing, between fulfilling his own duties and rigorous training. There in their stuffy shade he found a peace and acceptance which was lacking in his courtly life. The closest thing he’d ever had to a friend before was probably Morgana, but with Tyr Arthur didn’t need to try or perform, he didn’t argue or make fun of Arthur, he didn’t make him feel stupid and inadequate the way his father did, or childish and spoilt as he heard the knights whispering of him.

He still longed to earn the respect of the knights, as a man rather than a precocious young prince, but it seemed no matter how hard he worked and how much he improved he was still a joke out there on the field. When he disabled one of the older knights, it was a fluke, but when they beat him it was because he had been promoted above his skill level. 

He didn’t belong with the squires who were his own age, but he didn’t belong with the knights with their battle-forged camaraderie and their bawdy jokes either. With Tyr though, belonging wasn’t even a question, they just were as they were. Tyr didn’t question Arthur’s authority but he wasn’t subservient either, he treated everyone with the utmost respect and seemed surprised when others didn’t behave in the same way. People around the stables often said he was simple, but Arthur knew better, he was just kind, whether it was to horses or stray cats or lonely princes.

 

* * *

Arthur fought to stifle his laughter as he ducked between the hot, shifting bodies of the horses, raking his fingers across their smooth hides to steady himself. He could generally avoid Tyr’s attacks easily enough, the boy hadn’t had the benefit of Arthur’s training, but the humid September air was heavy throughout Camelot and in the stables even moreso, plus Arthur was enjoying the haze that came from a bellyful of pie, and a quart of stolen beer shared with a good friend. He leant back against a wooden post, catching his breath and grinning maniacally. There was a flurry of movement and he squawked like a raven as a whole pailsworth of cold water hit him in the face. Blinded and choking slightly he launched himself forward and tackled his adversary. Tyr was chuckling throatily as Arthur carried him down to the floor and straddled his waist. Arthur pinned his stubby arms above his head and leaned in menacingly.

“You know I could have you flogged for assaulting the Royal Person?” He growled and was pleased with how deep and grown up his voice sounded, it had been a bit all over the place recently.

Tyr chortled, clearly not appreciating the threat. He wriggled a bit and Arthur clamped his legs tighter around his body, it felt strange, Tyr was soft and warm and before Arthur realised what he had done he nuzzled his hips forward into the boy’s accommodating girth. 

Arthur froze, his mouth hanging open. Tyr was staring up at him, eyes like dinner plates and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was scared or just surprised. The moments dragged on and the horses shifted behind them, in the yard someone shouted and a dog barked, there was cold water trickling down Arthur’s neck and he shivered. Their faces were only inches apart and Arthur could hear his friend’s laboured breathing, he wondered if he was crushing him, his fattening prick was still pressing into Tyr’s belly and he was planning on leaping up and making a run for it. He hadn’t yet though. Tyr screwed up his eyes and Arthur realised he really needed to get off, he was a prince, Tyr was under his protecion and this had gone far enough. But before he could lift himself up Tyr lunged and jabbed his lips at Arthur’s, his head dropping back to the ground instantly, eyes still screwed shut.

Arthur stared at him for another moment before gradually lowering his head and pressing his lips gently against Tyr’s. Tyr’s eyes opened, and Arthur released his arms, instead cradling his cheeks as he tilted his head and kissed him again. Tyr slid his newly freed hands down to Arthur’s belt and pulled him close, inviting Arthur to grind into him again. His mouth tasted of tangy apples and sweet pastry when Arthur licked into him and he hadn’t known anything could feel so wonderful. Tyr was a solid and comforting anchor, holding Arthur close, a beacon of heat and strength.

It wasn’t to last though, right then if Arthur could have stilled that moment in time, like insects in the glow of amber, he would have without question, he would have held on to Tyr and lost himself in liquid sunlight. But the pair startled apart as cruel laughter erupted behind them, the connection severed and Arthur jolted to his knees, blushing.

It was Kay and Lionel, the knights who so delighted in tormenting Arthur.

Kay bent forward slapping his knee. “Come on Arthur, if you’re going to tumble the servants surely you can do better than that butterball," he jeered.

Arthur scrambled away, face burning and Tyr sat up slowly.

“Oh this is too precious,” crowed Lionel, “The noble prince has given his heart to the Lady Pigling, behold our next Queen.” He bowed deeply towards Tyr as Arthur stumbled to his feet.  
“It’s not his heart he was giving her…” Kay sniggered and threw his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, Arthur cringed and ducked away.

“Leave off,” he grated out, shoving at the bulky man.

“Oh dear,” Kay laughed, “I think he really is smitten, are you going to defend your lady love?”

Arthur watched as Tyr picked himself up, eyes fixed on the rough stone floor and shoulders drooping. He felt a terrible gulf between them, and wondered how that was possible when mere moments ago they had been closer than he had ever been with anyone.

“I’d be interested to see what the king thinks of his new daughter-in-law.” Lionel said, stroking his chin and looking thoughtful.

Kay nudged Arthur, “What do you say, a tournament for the honour of your lady? Have to give her a good scrub down first of course, we can’t have a princess who stinks of horse shit.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, his ears were ringing and his throat was threatening to draw closed completely. Tyr still hadn’t looked at him.

“No.” He whispered.

“What was that?” Kay asked, cocking his ear.

“No need for a tournament…” He laughed, feeling lightheaded, but his voice grew stronger. “I must have mistaken him for a wench I met in the tavern the other night, it was somewhat dark, but her tits were of much the same size.” He mimed the breasts and the two knights guffawed.

Arthur’s throat burned with acrid bile but he allowed Kay’s friendly thump on his back and fixed a grin on his face as they led him out into the glare of the courtyard, exchanging vulgar comments. He didn’t dare look back, but he knew he’d just sacrificed the only friendship he’d ever had, maybe the only true friend he would ever have, for the good opinion of a couple of boorish oafs who he didn’t even like.

The stables were no longer his sanctuary, summer was ending and it was time to become a man. As Prince and future King he had no need of friends.


End file.
